“Amisi?” the woman screeched. “What did you do to her?” But despite the sharp chatter to her voice, the mother showed signs of weakening as well. Her arms started to shake, even as she held her child tighter to her chest. “What are you doing to me?”
“Nothing!” Misti backed away a few paces, hands up, the pendant still hot on her skin. “I’m not doing anything, I swear it.”
She looked around for someone who could help or might understand. She wanted to see Dylori most of all, but only saw villagers. Most had gone silent at the woman’s cries, but a few others called the village healer over to help, and some tugged the mother away.
Misti kept her hands up, showing that they were empty and she meant no harm. She moved away a few paces more, away from the daygems’ light. The woman dropped to her knees now, crying over her child, pulling some of the other people down with her. Misti’s breath caught. The girl hadn’t woken up yet. Is she growing weak, like I had? Is her world tilting, too? A horrible thought struck Misti. Did the pendant somehow kill her? A cold sweat permeated her skin, and her stomach clenched. No, that can’t be possible. The orb around her neck cooled just as Dylori burst through the crowd.
Moments later, the girl stirred, yawned, and hugged her mother. With some help from the others, the mother got to her feet. She stared wide-eyed at Misti. Dylori went over to her, shielding her from Misti’s view and speaking softly, and after a few words, the mother disappeared into the crowd. Before they vanished completely, the young girl waved over her mother’s shoulder, alive and well, a spark of hope in Misti’s miserable state. Misti gave a small wave back before Dylori turned to her, eyes blazing.
Dylori marched over to her, grabbing Misti’s arm and drawing her close. “What happened? That woman said you nearly killed her daughter.”
“No!” Misti burst out, clapping a hand over her mouth. Her gaze slipped to the other villagers, who glared at her, their whispers an angry hum. She shook her head and mumbled, “The pendant did…something. It got hot again, and it…it did something to them.”
Dylori gave her a hard look. “We need to see Zarious. Now.” She pulled Misti toward the edge of the village where the Moon Knights had made camp.
Chapter Two
WORRY KEPT MISTI’S GAZE on the ground as they walked. Dylori tried to catch her eye a few times, but Misti ignored her. She focused on the black dirt path and the gray rocks jutting from it and the way her shadow danced ahead of her. The pendant was quiet—no longer pulsing, no longer hot—so the immediate danger seemed over.
But what if it happened again? What if it could pull energy from Zora, too? The idea floated across the edges of Misti’s mind, almost out of sight, and then snagged. All crafting had limits and that was one of Blood crafters’: though they could heal anyone and anything, they could only pull life-energy from people. Some banished Blood crafters had tried to steal from the Moon Knights’ animal companions but couldn’t; their eyes had flashed white, but their cuts never healed. But this orb was different. And as much as Misti wanted to see Zora, she needed to know her feathered friend would be safe once they did reconnect.
A horrible part of Misti wanted to run away from this scene she’d caused and especially from whatever awaited her at Met’zil Zarious’ tent. It was a scared part of herself that had reared up nine seasons ago—a part of herself that caused her to leave the most important people in her life, and a part of herself that she was still trying desperately to fix. She knew he’d be disappointed in her for causing a scare in the village and for letting two more banished ones escape. But not because of this pendant. Surely he won’t be mad at me about this thing. The thought almost comforted her, but not enough. So she kept walking, palms sweaty, biting her lip, eyes to the ground. As if she knew Misti’s internal struggle, Dylori didn’t remove her hand from Misti’s arm until they reached Met’zil Zarious’ quarters.
Dylori stopped walking when they reached the ornate tent and the smaller ones surrounding it, lit by the soft glow of the daygems. While the smaller tents had little room and even less decoration, Met’zil Zarious’ tent would fit four men standing tall. Its leathers were stamped with the Moon Knight emblem: a shining full moon with four stars surrounding it on a square black backdrop.
“Met’zil Zarious.” Dylori’s low rumble of a voice rolled through the air.
After a few moments, Zarious’ gravelly voice replied, “Enter.”
Dylori gave Misti an encouraging nod and lifted the tent flap, motioning Misti inside. His tent also had more furnishings than a standard dwelling, most notably a short folding desk made of dark wood. Bent over the desk and scowling at a map of Whels was Met’zil Zarious himself. A daygem sat in a small glass container next to him, lighting the area with a soft green glow. Even though his eyes were trained on the paper, Misti saluted, placing a closed fist over her heart and inclining her head.
“At ease,” he said, his deep voice filling the space. His voice always reminded her of a rockslide, rough and tumbling fast from his lips.
Misti relaxed her stance, but her mind fluttered while taking in the full presence of Met’zil Sarhai Zarious, the commanding officer of the third unit of the Moon Knights. He was expected to rise to Aramet’zil—the highest rank of Moon Knights—in less than a season, even though he had just crested his fortieth. He was a legend in the Moon Knights, a hero who had beaten back the toughest foes and the deadliest suncreatures. He didn’t interact much with his knights outside of battle, but Misti was proud to be part of his unit. Met’zil Zarious demanded her attention with a simple look. He stood tall and proud, built like a rock and a frown seemingly etched on his face. Light blue scales ran over his bare shoulders, neck, and jaw, and around his eyes. They contrasted sharply with his dark skin, making his sleet dragon bloodline. His shaved head glinted in the daygems’ glow, his black eyebrows bunching together as he looked at the pair of them.
The silence stretched as he lifted his hand and his companion dragon floated down from its perch on a high pole. Tuatu was small enough to perch comfortably on Zarious’ shoulder, her body an arm’s length if that, but her raw elemental power demanded respect. Her bright purple eyes narrowed at the two women, but she settled down, hooking her long white claws into Zarious’ black tunic. She rested her tiny snout on her paws next to Zarious’ neck, folded her wings onto her back, and curled her tail around his arm, scales nearly blending in with his own. The white spikes at the tip of her tail rested gently on his bicep.
Met’zil Zarious regarded them in silence, and the air seemed to tighten around them. Intimidated, Misti tried not to stare into his bright-purple eyes, lowering her own to the map. Dots represented the nearby towns of Kells, Amiin, and Juu, lines marked the River Loie to the west, and a large wiggling circle was the Laidly Grove Lake to the south. Places where the Moon Knights had found and defeated banished ones were marked with small Xes. She took a deep breath. Okay, girl, don’t mess this up.
To her surprise, Met’zil Zarious spoke to Dylori first, his intense gaze shifting to her. “Did you defeat the banished Blood crafters to the east?”
Dylori had saluted as well. “We did. Mostly.” She glanced sidelong at Misti. “Two of the banished crafters got away. A mistake we’re correcting.”
Misti winced at the statement, which might as well have been a dagger slashing open her gut. Met’zil Zarious sighed and scratched his dragon under the chin. “Correcting it how?”
“Misti called for a strixi to track the crafters down. Two came when she called.” Misti thought she saw a look of pride flash through her friend’s dark eyes. “I have the utmost confidence the birds will find them. When they do, we’ll take them out.”
“See that you do.” Met’zil Zarious narrowed his eyes at Dylori before glancing in Misti’s direction. “I take it Zil Eildelmann is responsible for the mistake?”
Dylori reluctantly nodded and Misti took it as her turn to speak. She swallowed the fear trying to close up her throat and inclined her head onc
e more to Zarious. “Apologies, Met’zil. It won’t happen again.”
Met’zil Zarious grunted and folded his arms. Tuatu’s tail flicked. “You said that last time, Eildelmann.”
A spark of anger jolted through her at his words, but her face burned with embarrassment. “I didn’t mean to let them go. One slipped past the ranks and I tried to catch up. A fellow Moon Knight needed backup at the clearing, so that took priority.” Misti recalled the yell piercing through the darkness and how she rushed back to help.
“And did you help that Moon Knight?” Met’zil Zarious asked.
Of course she had—or so she thought. But when she called up the memories again, it dawned on her that she hadn’t helped. Not one bit. She glanced at Dylori. “No. Dylori had taken care of it by the time I got back.”
Met’zil Zarious scoffed. “So you let a banished Blood crafter go for no good reason?”
That’s unfair. A stubborn streak she’d had since childhood kicked in and melted the guilt away. “I thought the Moon Knights would need my help. They come before the banished any night.”
Met’zil Zarious arched an eyebrow. “I admire your loyalty, Eildelmann, but you can’t excuse letting two go.”
“The other one got the jump on me,” Misti said a bit too loudly, anger flaring before she could quell it. “The man came out of nowhere. The fight was over. We had won, and any one of us could’ve been jumped by him.”
“But only you were. The others would’ve stayed alert and used their strength to overpower the fool. Maybe we made a mistake in letting a vulnix bloodline into the ranks.” The dig at her bloodline caused Misti’s anger to grow. Met’zil Zarious knew it was a sore spot, and that she was trying her best to keep up. Before she could retort, he began pacing the tent. “And what about the danger the banished one poses to innocents? He could be sucking the life-energy out of a villager right now because of you. They both could.”
Because of me someone could be getting injured. Her shame caused her anger to boil over, her voice rising louder than it should. “Only one can steal life-energy. The other crafter who got away was an Elu, not a Divus.”
“An Elu?” Met’zil Zarious stopped pacing. He stared at her with a hard glint in his eye. She briefly wondered if she should tell them about her crafting’s failure to come when she called, but with the way he glared at her, she couldn’t bring herself to admit that her fear had stopped her crafting. That had to be what happened, right? It was already hard to feel confident in front of the Met’zil—being from a dragon bloodline, Zarious’ Animal crafting dwarfed all others—and she didn’t want to give him another reason to disapprove of her. The man had defeated three wyvern suncreatures using only his crafting and the tiny dragon resting gently on his shoulder. Wyverns! The most fearsome flying creatures in all of Inber. To an all-but-fearless man, I can’t admit that my trepidation hindered my fight.
Met’zil Zarious turned away from them, picked up a quill, and made a few quick notes on the map. “No one in the village mentioned anything about an Elu being with the group, just Divus.”
“I’m sure the villagers were mistaken, being attacked and all.” Dylori put one hand on Misti’s arm while Met’zil Zarious’ back was turned, a silent warning to calm down. Misti let out a breath, trying to push down her anger, and shook off Dylori’s hand before he turned back once more. “But there’s another thing you should know.”
“On top of two banished ones getting away?” Met’zil Zarious’ eyebrows rose.
“Yes. The second banished one put something on Misti. Something that we think is dangerous.” Dylori motioned for Misti to show him.
For the second time that night, Misti unbuckled her chest armor and removed it entirely for ease’s sake. The pendant shimmered, the pure white orb catching the light and the silver metal reflecting it back. Met’zil Zarious moved closer, staring at the orb. She fought the urge to cross her arms, wishing she had worn a different top instead of the low, loose one she picked this morning.
“What is it?” Met’zil Zarious reached out to touch it, but Misti backed away. He gave her a questioning look.
“An orb that can possibly suck the life-energy out of people,” Dylori said, ever the blunt one.
Misti couldn’t help appreciating her honesty in a moment like this. She nodded and related what had happened during the struggle. She described the pulsing, the heat, the energy draining from her, and finished with what happened back at the village with the little girl. At this, Met’zil Zarious’ eyes widened. He backed away a good three paces. Dylori shifted closer with subtle protectiveness, and Misti was thankful for her comforting presence.
“I think it even stole some energy from the other Moon Knights on the way back to the village,” Misti said, finally giving voice to the worry that had been troubling her. “We took much longer getting back here from the clearing.”
Dylori shook her head. “We were all tired. It couldn’t have—”
“It must have been the pendant. I hung back when we got to the village and everyone became livelier.”
“Because we were happy to be back,” Dylori muttered, but it sounded like she was trying to convince herself.
“I think it’s still doing it, sucking the life energy. Even though the orb is cold, I’m more tired than I should be.” Dylori glanced at her, but Misti ignored her. “A Blood crafter planted it on me, so wouldn’t it make sense that it would do his work for him?”
“How, though?” Met’zil Zarious asked.
Misti thought she saw a hint of a smile cross his face, but only for a heartbeat before it vanished, replaced by a stern frown. Morbid curiosity, perhaps? Misti shooed the thought away. Maybe I imagined it. “I don’t know, but there’s writing on it, too. Maybe the symbol helps?” She ran her finger over the cold orb, feeling the circular symbol etched into the stone.
Met’zil Zarious didn’t come close enough to look. He eyed her from a distance, now backed up to the other side of his tent, seven paces away. “Get out,” he replied loudly.
Misti was startled by the sudden sharp tone in his voice. “What?”
“I need to talk to T’zil Clyofis alone,” he said, gesturing to the tent flap. “We’ll call for you when we’re done.”
When Misti didn’t move, Dylori gently nudged her. “Go to your tent. We just need to make a plan of attack for this new jewelry piece of yours. Try to stay away from others if you can.” She gave her a small apologetic smile and lifted the flap.
Misti wanted to stay, to figure out what to do with this pendant. She was the one forced to wear it, after all. But she also understood the chain of command, and sometimes a commanding officer needed to talk to his second without others listening. So she left, skirting around the main tents so she wouldn’t bump into anyone else. Disappointment followed her through the shadows, stalking her like a suncreature waiting to pounce. It finally caught up with her about halfway back to her tent, and she sighed. Try as she might to ignore it, she felt like a child being scolded by her parents and sent off to her room.
She got to her tent and flopped inside, tightening the strings on the flap closed and sitting in the semi-darkness. The hole she’d cut in the top of her tent for calm nights like this let a little light in, and a single ray of daygem white settled on her bedroll. Her mind wandered back to the pretty green daygem in Met’zil Zarious’ tent. It took more time and energy to create different-colored daygems, the fact that he could buy one showcased the mark of his status as a Met’zil of the Moon Knights. Or a gift perhaps? She took off the rest of her armor and set it on the dirt beside her cot, leaving on her black pants and boots. Slipping out of her white shirt, she pulled on a soft, cream-colored tunic. It always felt better to put on a clean shirt after a fight. The shirt had been rolled tight next to some gara nuts and held their scent, a nut native to the Ruinswick area and a common treat in her home, Northtown.
Home. Her thoughts turned toward her siblings, whom she missed dearly. But she couldn’t think of her s
iblings without thinking of her parents and what they’d done, what they were. How she had run away, broken ties with them at only eighteen seasons in order to protect herself and left her siblings behind in doing so. The quiet anger that lived inside her crackled to life, warming her even though the night air wasn’t cold. But she refused to think of them right now. She didn’t need to be mad at them tonight.
Her stomach rumbled, and Misti groaned. I haven’t eaten in forever. She rummaged around in her pack for some dried fruit. The sarii felt like dust in her mouth, the salt doing nothing to improve it, and she swigged a mouthful of water to compensate and settled on her bedroll. Tiredness sank her body into a restless doze, but just before her eyes closed, Misti worried whether they would open again. Will this pendant suck the life-energy out of me, even kill me while I slept? But exhaustion took over, and she sank into darkness like a lover’s soft and welcoming arms.
Moments later, it seemed, Stee’s smooth voice called to her from outside. “Misti? You’re needed in the animal courtyard.”
Misti rose, feeling even wearier than before. The animal courtyard? She had expected to go back to Met’zil Zarious’ tent, not to the animals. Still, the courtyard was a wide, open space a short walk away from the village, perfect for private conversations. They could even let the animals out of the courtyard for a walk while they talked and did whatever they planned on doing to the pendant. Misti’s back ached as she stood, her limbs rubbery and numb as though she had been walking for nights on end. Even her stomach protested, threatening to throw up the fruit from earlier. Judging from the daygems’ light streaming into her tent and the darkness beyond, she had only slept for an hour, maybe less.
Sunkissed Feathers & Severed Ties Page 3